He was talkingBible, singular. There were two of them.
“A Bible of that significance should belong to all, should it not?” the queen suggested with a hint of steel. “We would find the finest experts to examine it and see it properly tended. It should be on display in the royal collection.”
Iona would like to object, but the Bibles belonged to her husband’s Northumberland side of the family, not her Scots one. And Lydia wasn’t here to present her arguments as a librarian.
“We would be honored if our family treasure could enlighten the minds and souls of many,” Gerard said in his best diplomatic tones. “But it would come at great cost to the women of my family, to whom it was bequeathed. They prize it greatly and wish to learn from it and pass on their knowledge to future generations. You have children of your own, Your Majesty. You’ll understand the desire to improve their souls.”
Oh my. Under that layer of diplomacy, Gerard roiled with so many emotions, Iona feared he’d explode. How could any one man contain so much energy without a sign of it appearing in his voice or features?
Practice—a lifetime of practice. He knew precisely what he was doing. She squeezed his arm in reassurance. His stew of emotions steadied into a scent of... determination?
She murmured so only he could hear, “I love you, my lord. You are my heart and soul.”
His arm jolted a little, and then he covered her hand with his while the queen spoke.
“Of course, we are prepared to offer your family free access to the treasure at any time and reimburse you for your loss. There is a marquessate...”
Gerard bowed, effectively cutting her off. “If I may, your majesty?”
She gestured irritably. “You will tell me the expense of one marquessate is sufficient.”
Iona stifled a giggle. So, the queen had heard.
“Yes, your majesty. As is the upkeep of Wystan. The ladies there are rightful owners of the book. They are the ones who should be reimbursed, not me.”
The queen sighed heavily and turned to the chancellor. “I believe you have discussed what the royal coffers can afford?”
Iona’s jaw dropped at the sum named.
Thirty
Gerard assistedhis flushed wife with rearranging her rumpled travel garments as his new carriage rolled down the rutted drive in the final leg of their journey. Hiscarriage—a wedding gift from the marquess. His father had declared a wife needed one. Then the old nip-farthing had given Gerard his old growler and bought himself a sleek new brougham.
Gerard appreciated the sentiment. The marquess traveled about London and needed to flaunt his position. Gerard was taking up residence in the middle of nowhere and could have lived with a mule-drawn cart.
“I think I can come to appreciate this mode of transportation.” He helped Iona button up her bodice. “Having a wife as travel companion has proved most—enlightening.”
Iona laughed. He loved hearing her laugh. She’d been much too serious for too long.
“I appreciate any transportation at all. And having a husband is most—exciting. Look, the ladies are gathering on the portico!”
“In this gale?” Gerard peered around her as the coach rattled into the courtyard. “There will be no arriving unannounced anymore, will there?”
Strangely, he did not mind. Yes, his tenants were odd, but then, so was he. Now that they had the wherewithal to make improvements, he was eager to make changes—if the women approved. “I don’t think I even mind that you and the others are allowed to question my decisions. I’ll have someone else to blame if the choice is wrong.”
Iona laughed again and kissed his cheek, heating his blood even though they’d just christened the new carriage in satisfying fashion. “Your ancestor prophesies a land of milk and honey. The Bible illustration shows a man surrounded by bees being saved by such a concoction. We may cause harm, but we do strive to repair it.”
“Prophesies are so very illogical. Milk—we should buy more cows? We should fix the roof with leather from the cows and glue it with honey?” He laughed when she poked him for his rudeness.
“Despite all logical sense, I love you,” she declared. “I have not told you enough, I think. I love the way you think. I love your sense of duty. And I love waking up with you in the morning.”
As soon as the carriage door opened, Gerard handed out the kitten’s basket to the post-boy. Stepping out, he reached to lift his wife down. “And I love your sauciness and the way you make me see all sides, even when I know I’m right. And I love it when you...” He bent over and whispered in her ear.
She blushed and shoved him away, taking his arm to properly greet Wystan’s inhabitants. Gerard wasn’t worried about this prim reaction. He had learned that his bride was as adept at learning bedplay as she was everything else she set her mind to. She would apply herself to his preference with enthusiasm the instant they retired to his own private tower.
“You brought the Bible?” Little Mrs. Merriweather asked excitedly as they approached.
Iona laughed. “His lordship is bringing enough wealth to fix the roof, improve the chimneys, start another orchard, and give you each a stipend. And you ask about an ancient Bible?”
